


Don't Even Get Me Started on All the Little Things You Do

by the_boy_and_his_wolf



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, Human Derek Hale, Jealous Derek Hale, M/M, Neighbours AU, Stiles Stilinski Goes on Dates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-05-24 10:43:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6151027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_boy_and_his_wolf/pseuds/the_boy_and_his_wolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He didn't like him at first, so stern and cold<br/>Didn't like him like that, 17 years old<br/>Didn't know he loved him<br/>Just the boy next door" </p><p>Or, the one where Stiles goes on a number of dates and comes home to Derek sitting on his front steps after every one. But, no, of course Derek isn't waiting up for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Even Get Me Started on All the Little Things You Do

**Author's Note:**

> Hey!  
> So, there is an singer/song-writer/YouTuber called Lindsay Bruce. She has a song on her YouTube page called Heart on Your Shoe. It's super fucking cute, and that's what this fic is based off. (Watch it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-L8AY_w6YQQ ) This is the fastest thing I've ever written. And, as standard procedure when I post anything, it is in direct conflict with me writing an assignment which is in for the next few days. 
> 
> I'm :) definitely :) failing :) my :) fucking :) degree :) 
> 
> Enjoy!

Stiles has a date. A legitimate going-to-a-fancy-restaurant, shirt-and-tie _date._ Yeah, he can’t quite believe it either. The guy – Brett – had met him at a book shop, they had flirted over their choice of books, and, let’s be real, Stiles’ default setting is flirting. He flirts with _everyone_ and it never ever gets him anywhere, so when Brett ran out of the book store after him and slipped a piece of paper into his hands with a number on it, Stiles had been far too shocked to say anything. Luckily he’d recovered enough to send a devastatingly charming text. Which, apparently, worked. Because here he is, standing by his gate waiting for Brett to pick him up.

In the corner of his eye he sees a hunched figure sitting at the steps of the house next door. He turns to look, and sighs loudly.

“It’s like -50 out here, Hale. What are you doing?”

“It’s June. In California. It’s not cold at all.” Derek’s eyebrows furrow in that way that they do and Stiles finds himself indignant because Derek may not get cold beneath all those brawny muscles, but for Stiles it’s a little nippy once the sun’s gone down, OK?

“Well. It’s still dark. And night-time. And it’s still _weird_ that you’re just sitting there.”

“The stars are nice.”

Ha! The stars are nice. Fucking hell. This guy is the year above Stiles at school. Everyone is slightly in love with him on an aesthetics-deep level, but also slightly terrified of him due to his frowny face and intimidating eyebrows. Stiles has heard him being described with adjectives such as ‘stern’ and ‘cold’ and ‘mean’. And, sure, he’s a terrible conversationalist, has barely said more than a handful of words at a time to Stiles, despite them having lived next door to each other his entire life, but he’s out here _looking at the stars._ ‘Cold’ and ‘mean’ are definitely an ignorant exaggeration.

“You’re just out here stargazing?” Stiles scoffs. Because he can’t believe how adorably nerdy that is, not because he thinks it’s something to be mocked.

“Shut up, Stiles,” Derek mutters. “What are you waiting for?”

“Not really your business, Hale,” Stiles says. Then, because he’s still so stoked about it, adds, “But, since you asked. I've got a date!”

He doesn't know what he’s expecting. Derek to jump up, give a fist-bump whilst saying ‘ _nice!’’_? Yeah, never going to happen. Derek doesn't have the emotional capacity to get excited for himself, probably, so never mind somebody else.

What happens is he widens his eyes, is quiet for a few moments and then says,“Why are you waiting for her out here? Seems a bit forward.”

Dammit. Stiles has thought about this himself, but really doesn’t want his dad giving Brett the third degree. He’d already put Stiles through the excruciatingly awkward safe-sex talk, and he didn't want Brett to have to go through that as well. And, by the way, ‘um, just- make sure you’re safe son’ would be of absolutely no operational use if Stiles wasn't already fully informed, sexually. So, minus points to the Sheriff.

“Alright, well, forgive me if I don’t take your dating advice, Derek. It’s just that I haven’t seen you with any date, ever, sooo.”

He had, actually. A few months ago Stiles had been with Scott at the movies, and Derek had been a couple of rows in front with Kate Argent. It had made Stiles feel a little bit disappointed, because it just seemed so _predictable._ Kate was also beautiful and terrifying, so to everyone who didn't know that Derek spends his evenings star-watching and Saturday mornings planting sunflowers with his mother in the back yard, it would seem like the perfect match. Except Stiles _did_ know those things so it was just kind of… well, whatever. It didn't matter. Just, predictable.

Derek scowls at Stiles’ comment and Stiles just beams at him mock-innocently.

“Also. ‘Him’.”

“Huh?”  

“You said, ‘waiting for her out here’. But my date is with a guy.”

Derek’s eyes widen again, and for a heart-stopping second Stiles worries that he’s one of _those_ guys. Would never walk around topless in his back yard again because of the gay kid next door. And, not to prove a point, but that would be an awful shame.

But then, the tip of his ears turn red and he looks down at his shoes and shrugs. “Sorry. Shouldn't have assumed.”

“Well, it’s pretty much the societal rule, right? ‘Straight until proven gay’. Or bi, in my case.”

“Yeah, but it shouldn't be.”

“Aw, I know, Big Guy. It’s so hard to do anything about the social injustices in this world when you’re an eighteen-year-old high-schooler, right?”

“You’re an asshole.”

Stiles shrugs, because _yeah._

Brett’s car pulls up and Stiles lifts a hand to Derek, “enjoy your stargazing, bro. Hey, tell me when I need to start calling you Copernicus or some shit.”

“Get lost, Stiles.”

Stiles flashes him a shit-eating grin and slides into Brett’s car.

 

It’s nearing midnight when Brett drops him back off. Stiles isn't sure of the dating etiquette. Thinks maybe there should be an end-of-date kiss, is panicking about whether he should initiate it when Brett presses his lips quick and chaste, on Stiles’.

“Text me,” he smiles.

“Will do!” Stiles gasps, not doing a particularly great job at not giving away the fact that he’s totally just had his first kiss.

Stiles is fumbling around with his keys when a surprisingly loud (for the time of night, in a quiet neighbourhood) voice asks, “So. How was it?”

He jumps to the left a good couple of feet and drops his keys. “Jesus fucking Christ, Derek.” He snaps, clutching his chest. “What are you _doing._ ”

The light in the porch of the Hale house is turned out, so it’s hard to see what Derek’s face is doing. _Probably_ frowning, let’s be honest, but when he speaks his voice is confused.

“I was asking how your date went.”

“OK, well, first of all, give a guy a warning before you start talking to them outside in the middle of the night. And, second of all, what the fucking fuck are you doing outside, in the pitch black, at midnight? Have you not moved in the past four hours? Have you got a stargazing _fetish,_ or something?”

And, alright, maybe Stiles is being a dick since Derek only asked how his date went, but his heart still hasn't recovered from the shock. There’s honest-to-God palpitations happening right now.

Again, Stiles can’t see Derek’s face, but scowling is definitely evident in his voice. “It’s just _quiet_ out here. I wasn't- I was just avoiding my sisters for a minute.”

Stiles softens because he’s heard Derek’s sisters arguing plenty of times. Has heard them yelling at each other, yelling at Derek, sometimes Derek yelling back, and he can understand the peacefulness of the front step when he thinks about that.

“Alright, buddy. Well, next time you want to escape your sisters, wear a high-vis jacket or something. A flashing neon sign saying ‘stargazing’, maybe.”

Derek huffs a laugh and Stiles is shocked by how _nice_ it feels to make him laugh.

“And, it was good. The date. Thanks for asking.” Stiles says.

He thinks about the kiss and finds himself feeling a bit self-conscious that Derek probably witnessed it. Then a bit amused about how it seems like Derek is his over-bearing dad, waiting outside the house for Stiles to come home.

“Hey, I hope you weren't waiting up for me.”

“What?”

“You know, checking up on Brett. Making sure we didn't have heated car-sex right by your front lawn?” Stiles snorts a laugh at the thought.

“You think I'm jealous?” Derek damn-near _growls._

“Wha- no! I meant like an over-bearing dad or something, not- It was a joke, dude.”

“I barely know you, Stiles. And what I do know about you isn’t particularly likeable. You know you play your video games, like, _ridiculously_ loudly, right?”

“The volume is usually like halfway down, dude, I don’t- “

“No _you’re_ ridiculously loud. You shout and curse for hours at that thing. And you sing in the shower with the window open. Badly. And I swear you don’t ever sleep, I wake up at three in the morning and I can hear you mumbling. You’re either an insomniac or a crazy sleep-talker. And, you know, leaving subtle messages in your Wi-Fi name  _isn't funny._ ”

Stiles is a mixture of emotions. He’s intrigued, because this is the most Derek Hale has ever said to him. Conflicted, because this is the most Derek Hale has ever said to him, and it’s just a list of things he doesn't like about him. Bewildered, because this conversation took a massive fucking U-turn from what he expected. And, downright _outraged_ because changing his Wi-Fi name to ‘Wi believe I can Fi’, after hearing Derek singing the R. Kelly classic, was one of his proudest moments to date.

“Well, alright, fucker,” Stiles says finally. “Goodnight. Guess I'm going to go and play video games _really super quietly_ so as not to offend your delicate ears.”

 

Four nights later Stiles and Brett go on another date. They go rock climbing, which is cool because Stiles has never been and it’s an interesting date idea. It’s not so cool, though, because he falls and sprains his wrist about half an hour in. Note to self: don’t go on dates which require any level of physical control.

When Brett drops him off, Derek is sitting on his front step. He’s left the porch light on, so Stiles can see him clearly. Not exactly a neon-flashing sign, but it’s the thought that counts.

“Evening, Grump-Muffin,” he greets once Brett has driven off. “Here to list a few more problems you have with me?”

“You really shouldn't get me started,” Derek mutters. “A few weeks ago you had a one-man argument about whether Spike or Angel is a better match for Buffy. And you were wrong, by the way. Also you shouldn't use your Jeep outside of the hours from 9 to 9, since it’s dying so loudly it disrupts the whole neighbourhood. And, calling it ‘baby’ whilst patching it up with duct tape isn't going to stop the dying process.”

“The Jeep, is a ‘she’, actually. And _she_ doesn't deserve your negative attitude.”

Derek snorts softly and Stiles finds himself smiling. “Wanna turn that one-man argument into a two-man argument?” he asks. “Cos I have a lot more to say on the Spike Vs Angel subject.”

Derek’s looks a little startled as Stiles walks over and joins him on the front step. Then he clocks the bandage on Stiles’ arm (done by the first aid lady at the rock-climbing centre, who so very sensitively told him that there were ten-year-olds who managed the wall without any injuries).

“You’re hurt?”

Stiles sighs. “I can’t rock-climb, apparently.”

“He took you rock-climbing? Adventurous.” Derek’s voice sounds a little off, but when Stiles tries to look at his face to figure him out, he barrels head first into a Buffy conversation.

They talk for two hours before Talia comes out and turns the porch light off and they figure they should probably both go to bed.

 

Stiles continues dating Brett throughout June and July and the first weeks of August. They do lots of different things, all of which are pleasant and Stiles enjoys them, enjoys Brett’s company. Sure, he doesn't feel sparks when they kiss (which they do, and have moved past the chaste grandma-kisses by now), but they’re only a couple months into dating, so that’s not abnormal, right?

There’s a double date with Scott and Allison in July which makes him worry a bit, since he can’t imagine looking at Brett the way Scott looks at Allison, but then they make-out in the car before driving into Stiles’ street and it’s _good_ so he doesn't worry too much.

It becomes a thing. Derek waits on his doorstep until he gets back, and Derek can say that he isn't waiting, does say he isn't waiting. Repeatedly. Always reminds Stiles of the annoying things he does which would absolutely mean he  _wouldn't ever_ be waiting, but Stiles mostly brushes them off, because Derek is beginning to slip, beginning to say them softly and fondly. Plus, he’s there no matter what time Stiles finishes. He’s there in the rain one night at the start of August, and Stiles finds his breath catching at the way Derek’s black t-shirt clings to his chest. His heart feels weirdly full and his tummy newly fluttery when a raindrop drips off Derek’s eyelashes. OK, maybe he’s _slightly_ endeared. Shut up.

“You could have waited in the porch, dumbass,” Stiles says, rolling his eyes and sitting down beside Derek, putting up an umbrella he had the sense to take out with him.

“I'm not waiting for you, Stiles.”

“Really, dude? _Really_? The stars aren't even out tonight.”

“No, but Cora borrowed Laura’s make-up and broke one of her lipsticks. My house is probably going to be a no-go zone for the rest of the week.”

Stiles chuckles. He likes hearing about Derek’s family, he’s always complaining about them but he can’t help from smiling and sounding fond when he does it. Stiles is beginning to wonder if Derek can only show affection in the form of complaints. It’s a startling thought, if he thinks about how many times Derek has complained about him.

 

Stiles figures it out during a date at the pizzeria. Brett is saying something about Chris Pratt, and Stiles finds himself remembering an hour long conversation he’d had with Derek a couple of nights before about their shared love for Parks and Recreation. He grins, because he remembers how amused he’d been at the passionate way Derek speaks about something he loves. At the fact that their whole school thinks he’s this moody unapproachable loner, but here he was telling Stiles how _funny_ he found Ron Swanson.

Stiles loves him.

Shit, Stiles really fucking loves him.

The realisation isn't earth-moving like he would have expected. It’s more of a ‘oh. I love him. Of course’. Derek is funny, and goofy, and loving. So _so_ loving. And Stiles teases him endlessly about waiting up for him but, honestly, he was glad of it every time he got out of the car. Couldn't help but smile whenever he saw Derek sitting there, couldn't help but feel excited about what they were going to enjoy arguing about tonight, about what stories Derek was going to tell him about his family, about what new things he was going to learn about his lifelong neighbour.

His favourite part of going out was always coming home.

So, he amicably breaks it off with Brett. Tells him he likes him, but doesn't see this going anywhere. Brett smiles and nods and says he felt that too, but that they should still go bowling together, because that was fun and he still needs to beat Stiles’ ass. Stiles laughs and declares that a Brett-victory is not even in the realm of possibilities, but that he’d like to go and win against him again.

When Brett drops him back home, his heart is in his throat when he gets out of the car. He’s been trying to plan what he will say, trying to work out how he’s going to word what he’s feeling, and he’s got this horrible bubbly nervousness in his stomach, is pretty sure his forehead is sweating. Which, not the best look when trying to bag yourself a first date. 

He looks towards Derek’s front steps and finds them empty.

He stares at them for a few seconds because, what? What the fucking fuck? Derek has waited for him for months now – and he refuses to believe otherwise, thank you very much – and the one night Stiles could really fucking do with him waiting up he’s, what? Got tired and gone to bed? Realised he can’t be bothered any more? He would be disappointed but understanding in any other circumstance, but this just feels far too much like a ‘fuck you’ from the higher powers, that mostly he just feels incredulous. And, well, he still feels disappointed. And, slightly sick, actually.

He’s about to walk away, feeling like he needs some time to clear his thoughts before going home, when there’s a voice from Stiles’ own front steps.

“Stiles.”

Stiles whips his head round, and Derek is hovering near his front door. Squeezing and unsqueezing his hands in and out of fists. A nervous habit. The same thing he did when he told Stiles that Kate Argent had been manipulative and cruel, the same thing he did when his Uncle Peter was staying over for the weekend, and he told Stiles that he hates him, that his uncle belittles his dad and it makes Derek feel useless and ansty. The same thing he did when he told Stiles he was scared about finishing school the next year, scared about college.

“Derek, hey,” Stiles walks over. “What’s wrong?”

“I need to tell you something.”

“OK?”

“I just… I know this isn't my place to say, I know it’s not really fair for me to do it but I can’t just keep- I can’t-“ he takes a deep breath.

“It’s OK, Derek, hey, it’s OK.” Stiles puts a hand on Derek’s arm and dips his head to catch Derek’s eyes, which are cast towards the floor. “It’s OK.”

“No, sh, you need to let me say it.” Derek says, sounding so nervous that Stiles wants to cuddle him, but fears that if he does Derek might freak out, since he’s so desperate to get whatever he has to say out. “You remember how I said you weren't likeable, back after your first date with Brett?”

“Yeah, dude it’s cool, you were dumb, we both know I'm likeable.”

“ _Stiles_ please. Let me say this.”

“Sorry, shoot.”

Stiles imitates zipping his lips and throwing away the key and Derek stares at him for a second with a look that can only be described and exasperated amusement.

“I told you weren't likeable and listed all those things. And I've probably listed four million things since then. And I call them annoying, but I don’t find them annoying, Stiles. I find them- God, they _are_ frustrating, but only because…” he trails off, speaking like he’s telling the worst secret he has. “You do things which _should_ annoy me, but I get frustrated because they _don’t._ I lie in bed and listen to you ramble away to your video games and I'm frustrated with myself because rather than wanting to tell you to shut up, I just want to come over and discuss them with you. And when I hear you sing in the shower it’s awful and it should be irritating as hell, but it makes me smile. And when you’re all smug and sarcastic I just want to-  I don’t like these things about you Stiles but- but I'm worried that I might love them? Love you. I think I love you.”

Stiles is beaming. Because he pretty much got that from ten seconds into Derek’s confession, but boy is he glad he let him continue because, yeah he’s going to be replaying the words ‘I think I love you’ on repeat in his head for at least, like, four months straight.

“I knew you were waiting up for me,” he grins and Derek looks so wrecked that Stiles just laughs and takes his face in his hand, rubbing circles into his cheek until the panic webs away. “I love you too, you idiot. Did you really think I was going to be, what, angry at you for telling me this?”

“You have a boyfriend,” Derek said softly, lips curving downwards.

“No. I don’t. I had someone I was dating, and now I don’t. I told him it wasn't working because I spent the majority of the dates thinking about your stupid ass. Well, I didn't say that bit, exactly. And I wasn't _specifically_ thinking about just your ass, _although_ -“

Derek cuts him off with a kiss, and it’s the sort of first kiss Stiles has been worried doesn't exist outside of the novels and movies, after his kisses with Brett. The kind that causes a warmth to flicker in his stomach, that have him reaching his hands into Derek’s soft hair and grabbling at Derek’s shoulders in a need for more, have him whimpering against Derek’s mouth and leave him wet-mouthed and breathless.

“I've been wanting to shut you up like that for months,” Derek admits quietly.

“Rude, Derek. We've been boyfriends for approximately three minutes and you’re already telling me you want me to shut up.”

“You talk an awful lot,” Derek says, shrugging with a playful smile. 

“I know I do. And you loooove me for it.”

Derek rolls his eyes and leans in for another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! As ever, feedback is my favourite thing, so please feel free to leave me a comment. 
> 
> I am the-boy-and-his-wolf on tumblr, come and say hi!
> 
> (the Wi believe I can Fi thing isn't mine, by the way, I saw a picture of it online).


End file.
